


Hard Reset

by abbner



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: A major character is dead at the beginning but doesn't stay that way, Angst with a Happy Ending, Begins in a bad ending VW AU, Felix is the progenitor god, M/M, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Roleswap, Slow Burn, Time Travel, Turns into a no Byleth AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29810052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbner/pseuds/abbner
Summary: “A few weeks ago you asked me if you could have saved him. If you could have stopped him.”Felix vaguely remembers this. It was the tenth day after Dimitri died. A moment of weakness.“I’ve been thinking about it,” they continue, “and I think the answer is yes.”Weeks after Dimitri and Claude fall to the Empire, the professor approaches Felix with a strange request.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Felix Hugo Fraldarius & My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 16
Kudos: 58





	Hard Reset

On the day that Dimitri dies, Felix feels nothing.

How could he? He didn’t even see it happen. Didn’t even hear it from someone who did. He had to hear about it thirdhand, from Sylvain, who heard it from the professor, who heard it from Hilda, who watched it happen. Three entire people removed from the death of the person who had once mattered most in the world. Like nothing more than a rumor concerning some faceless warrior, passed around by soldiers who didn’t know him and never would. Felix has never been one for gossip.

It makes sense, Felix had reasoned. Dimitri had become a stranger to him long before he’d appeared at Gronder, scarred, broken and unrecognizable. Joining the Golden Deer as a student had been the second easiest decision of his life, beaten only by the one he’d made a few months ago to heed the call to join the Leicester forces gathering at Garreg Mach, abandoning his father and Ingrid and the rumors of a one-eyed monster. So it’s only logical that Dimitri’s death would mean no more to Felix than any of the hundreds of others he witnesses on any given day.

This state of things persists until the eighth day after Dimitri dies. Felix gets to the training grounds at first light, before anyone else, as usual. He’s rifling through a pile of old training swords, hoping to find a single one that can withstand more than a few blows, when he finds it. A broken training sword, identical to the others, except that the iron hilt is completely crushed, a large handprint molded into it, gripped it so hard that it crumpled in on itself. As if it were hollow, the hard iron no more than a decorative shell hiding emptiness within.

But it’s not hollow, of course. That would be a terrible way to design a sword. And there’s only one person who could crumple solid iron as if it were a wad of paper. 

“Boar,” Felix scoffs under his breath. He turns the sword over in his hands and mentally adds it to the long list of things for which to taunt Dimitri on the off chance that he’ll ever see him again. This was a habit he’d picked up approximately five years earlier. Just in case.

Except now, he reminds himself, there’s no point. The small sliver of a fraction of a possibility that he and Dimitri would meet again is now gone. Dimitri is dead. 

The walls of the training grounds close in. Felix is suddenly very hot, his sweater much too tight, thick wool squeezing his neck making it impossible to breathe. 

Dimitri is dead. He’s known this for days. Dimitri is dead, and he’s not coming back. They’ll never spar again. He’ll never watch him push his food around his plate at meals, or ignore his stupid, cheerful greetings as they pass each other in the halls. He’ll never get to shoot Dimitri a covert glance when Ingrid says something pretentious or Sylvain something stupid, they’ll never laugh together under their hands in a moment of willful forgetfulness. They’ll never fight for their lives side by side, backs against each other, bright eyes meeting through the haze of blood and violence. He’ll never again hear his voice, neither the fake one nor the real. 

His head swims, the corners of his vision blurring, fading into black.

He does not remember days nine through thirteen. On the fourteenth day he feels nothing once again, except mild curiosity at the way everyone seems to flinch when he walks into a room, or the mixture of fear and pity in their eyes when they think he’s not looking. It barely registers that he once would have found this infuriating.

On the seventeenth day Claude succumbs to his wounds sustained at Gronder field. Felix has the training grounds all to himself that day.

On the eighteenth day Houses Gloucester and Ordelia declare for the Empire. On the twenty-fourth day they receive word from the Almyrans that the expected support is not coming. On the thirty seventh day most of the Knights of Seiros disappear, Seteth and Flayn with them. 

On the thirty-ninth day Sylvain deserts.

_“Come on_ Felix,” he practically begs. “You’re going to die if you stay here. And for what? For the Alliance? For the _professor_?” he shakes his head, looking like he wants to shake Felix instead. “They’ve gone off the deep end. They’re going to be another Dimitri soon, another boar.”

Felix scoffs. “You’re wrong about that.”

“Am I?” Sylvain says, his voice getting louder. “They’re walking around like everything is completely fine, not a care in the world while they march us toward certain death. Even after Claude...and they were so close with him, they were going to get _married_ . And now they don’t even care that he’s _dead.”_

Felix can’t deny any of this. It’s deeply, deeply unsettling to everyone, even to him. On the thirty-fifth day after Dimitri’s death he’d stopped by the fishing pond on his way back from the training grounds. Not because he’d wanted to, but because he’d seen Byleth, standing on the pier, fishing rod in hand, like back during their officers academy days. Their eyes were wide and clear, their face as blank as ever. He’d thought it strange and had started back for his room when over his shoulder had come one of the most jarring sounds he’d ever heard. 

Whistling. The professor was _whistling._

Clearly there is something wrong with them. But even still, Sylvain is off base. “They’re no boar,” Felix says. “I don’t know how you could even _begin_ to think that. They’re not him. There will never…” he cuts off, looking away, because his room has started feeling very small.

Sylvain’s voice softens. “Felix. I know, okay? I know how you felt about him. I felt the same way about Ingrid, and she,” his face twists into an expression Felix has almost never seen on him. He takes a deep, shuddering breath before he continues, his voice shaking. “They wouldn’t want us to throw our lives away for nothing, okay? They _don’t_ want that.”

“Actually, I think the boar wants me to get revenge,” Felix lies, not looking at Sylvain. “There’s a battle with the death knight at the end of this path. What’s at the end of yours?”

Sylvain stares at him, incredulous. “I don’t know, Felix, a chance at living past your twenty-fourth birthday? Maybe some peace, some happiness even?”

Felix barely stops himself from rolling his eyes. Part of him is furious with Sylvain, and needs to force him to understand that he’ll never be able to outrun his memory of Ingrid mowed down in a flurry of arrows, or the way her blood fell from the sky like rain. 

Nothing awaits either of them but an endless chain of numbered days. Better for Sylvain to accept it now than to suffer years of torment. 

Sylvain grabs Felix by the shoulder. “We fucked up leaving the Kingdom, but we have to live with that, okay?” he says, as if he can read Felix’s mind. “We have to, _you_ have to live with it. We made a promise, Felix, don’t you remember?”

“I made a lot of promises when I was a stupid kid, and so far I’ve broken them all. Why stop now?”

Sylvain’s face hardens. His hand drops from Felix’s shoulder as he takes a step back. “Fine,” he says, his voice rough. “Do what you want, Felix.”

He doesn’t look up as Sylvain walks away from him. Out of the corner of his eye he sees him stop and take one final look back. He speaks softly, so softly that Felix isn’t sure whether he’s meant to hear.

“You know, Felix? You’re right,” are the last words that Sylvain will ever say to him. “It’s not the professor who’s become a boar.”

***

On the fortieth day after Dimitri dies, the professor approaches him at the training grounds.

“We’re going to lose this war,” they say without preamble.

Felix says nothing. He doesn’t need them to tell him that. No one does. It’s painfully obvious to everyone in the professor’s dwindling army that they’re all doomed. 

“Why did you join this army, Felix?” the professor asks when he doesn’t respond.

Felix bristles. “Why do you care?”

“I realized today that I never asked you,” they say “You left your father behind to fight for Claude, why?”

Felix scowls. “It wasn’t for Claude.”

“Ah.”

Silence, for a moment.

“If you’d known Dimitri was alive would you still have joined us?” 

Felix does not like the direction this conversation is heading. He crosses his arms tightly across his chest and looks away.

“I’m sorry,” they say. “You’re still grieving-”

“I’m not grieving,” he spits. “There’s nothing to grieve.”

“Hm.”

“Nothing,” he repeats. “And I always knew he was alive.”

The professor cocks their head. “How could you know that?”

“I just knew, okay?” He’s starting to get a bit angry. “But I also knew there was no point waiting for anything resembling the Dimitri I once knew to come back.”

The professor frowns. “A few weeks ago you asked me if you could have saved him.”

Felix vaguely remembers this. It was the tenth day after Dimitri died. A moment of weakness. 

“I’ve been thinking about it,” they continue, “and I think the answer is yes.”

Rage boils up from somewhere deep within him. _“Why the fuck,”_ he asks, his voice shaking, “would you say that to me?”

“Do you agree?” they ask, their wide eyes unperturbed.

“Do I- what is _wrong_ with you?” he sputters _“Why_ would you ask me that?”

“I’m not trying to be cruel, Felix,” they say. “There’s a reason I’m asking you.”

“What reason?”

“Answer the question first.”

“Tell me the reason.”

“If I tell you it may affect your answer.”

“I don’t want to tell you.”

“Then you’ll never know why I’m asking.”

_“Fine,”_ Felix shouts. _“_ Yes, I agree. _Obviously._ I know him- knew him better than anyone. _Anyone._ Better than you did, better than his lapdog, better than my idiot father. I saw it in him- you remember, don’t you? I saw the boar for what he was before any of you, _years_ before any of you did, none of you were paying attention, but _I was._ I was paying attention. I knew, and I didn’t- I couldn’t- I could have-” he cuts off with a choking sound, struggling to breathe, grasping at his chest. The professor reaches out, slowly pulls him to the ground where they sit next to him as he regains his breath. 

Were it anyone else he would be mortally ashamed. But the professor has always been an exception to almost every one of his rules. Still, his face burns and he buries it in his arms, unwilling to look at them as they pat him gently on the back.

“You could have saved him back then,” they say softly after a moment. “What if you could now?”

Felix does not look up. “What do you mean?”

“If you could go back and do it differently, would you?”

“Yes,” he says simply. 

“Good,” they say, and remove their hand. “I think I can take us back.”

Now Felix turns to look at them. He’s sure he misheard them. “What?”

“I think I can take us back. In time,” they add, as if it should be obvious. “We’ll go back six years or so, to when I first became your professor.”

Felix blinks at them. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“It’s the only way we have any chance at this point,” they say.

Felix frowns at them for a few moments, trying to comprehend the nonsense coming out of the professor’s mouth. “Oh, I see what’s going on here,” he says after a moment. “You’ve snapped.”

They laugh. It’s the first laugh he’s heard in weeks. “I promise I haven’t snapped, Felix.”

“You just offered to take me back in time.”

“Yes,” they say. “I’ve actually taken you back before.”

“You- _what?”_

“I’ve taken you back in time before. Several times, actually. Twice it was because you died following my orders. Sorry about that, by the way,” they say with a wince. “It looked quite painful.”

Felix doesn’t know what to say.

The professor sighs. “I guess I should explain. I’m the goddess, and I can go back in time.”

Felix waits for them to say more. They do not. 

“That was _not_ an explanation,” he says.

“Well, you were there when I received the goddess’s power in the sealed forest, years ago,” they say. “It’s just that it’s a bit more extensive than I told you all.”

“Extensive how?” he asks, incredulous.

“As I’ve said, I can take us back in time. Usually only a few minutes, an hour or so at most. Sometimes I can start a battle over from the beginning, if things turn particularly sour. But I’ve been practicing, almost as hard as you have,” they say, smiling slightly, “and saving energy, and spending a lot of time in the shadow library down below, and I _think_ it’s possible for me to go back several years.”

“Several years.”

“Yes. Six years, as I mentioned. We’re going to start over and do things differently. You’re going to stay with the Blue Lions, with Dimitri. You’re not going to leave him this time.”

Their last sentence makes Felix feel rather like they’ve stabbed him. 

“And I’ll teach the Golden Deer again,” they continue, “but I’ll build relationships with some of the more powerful Empire kids. If we could bring over some Varley, Hevring and Aegir forces and convince Brigid to remain neutral we would have a much better chance the next time around.”

“Why wouldn’t we just kill Edelgard?” he blurts. When their only answer is a puzzled look he continues, “Let’s pretend for a second that I believe this insanity you’re telling me. Which I don’t, for the record,” he adds. “But let’s just say that we can go back in time six years. Why wouldn’t I just kill Edelgard then, when she sleeps down the hall from me, unguarded, every night, so she can’t start this stupid war to begin with?”

“That is good thinking, Felix,” they say, sounding very professorish. “But unfortunately, there’s more going on here than meets the eye. Those mages we’ve seen with the Imperials are no ordinary mages. Claude was onto it. He told me what he knew before he died. We need her to start this war to drag them out of the shadows, or Fodlan will never know peace.”

Felix shakes his head, trying and failing to make sense of everything the professor is saying. “Is there any way I can make you understand how insane all this sounds?”

“I’m aware, Felix,” they say with a sad smile. “But I also know you trust me.”

Despite everything, it’s true, Felix realizes. Ridiculous, considering they’re the one who’s led him down this war path toward certain death. But even so, there’s nothing of Dimitri’s bloodlust in their big, green eyes, no matter how hard Sylvain insists. No fear, no uncontrollable rage, not now or ever. The professor keeps their emotions in check, if they have any at all. It’s why he trusts them so much, trusts them more than almost anybody, except the one other person who would never cry, never yell, and, crucially, would never lose. Right up until he lost.

No, it’s certainly not Dimitri who the professor reminds him of.

“Only because you’ve proven many times that you deserve to be trusted,” Felix says. “Don’t assume that can’t change.”

“I would never assume that, Felix,” they say, standing up. They offer him their hand. “Let me prove it to you once more.”

Felix considers for a moment. There is no way that what the professor is saying is possible. He doesn’t believe them in the slightest. And yet...their unsettling behavior makes much more sense in light of what they’ve told him. It’s clear, at the very least, that they believe that what they’ve said to him is true.

For a second he allows himself to believe as well. Allows a tiny flicker of hope to ignite within him. Thinks of Dimitri voluntarily for the first time in months, of Dimitri as he could have been in a better world, in a world where Felix hadn’t abandoned him. He grimaces. It’s almost too much to bear, too painful, and yet...and yet that tiny spark keeps the walls from closing in.

If there’s even a sliver of a chance, if there’s a single world out of millions in which the professor is telling the truth...does he have any choice but to try? If there’s anyone in the world he trusts to deliver the impossible, it’s the professor. He’s followed them this far. They haven’t let harm come to him yet. And he has nothing more to lose.

He takes their hand and rises to his feet.

***

A few hours later he’s trekking through the forest behind the professor as they search for the perfect spot to rip through space and time. Under normal circumstances he’d enjoy the opportunity to spend some time hiking off the beaten path with a quiet companion, but circumstances are currently anything but normal. Plus the professor had made him put on one of the old academy uniforms they had lying around, which is also about two sizes too small and makes him feel like a ridiculous, oversized teenager.

“How much further is it?” he asks, not for the first time.

“I think it was around here,” they say as they emerge into a small clearing. “But I can’t be sure. The mercenaries haven’t made camp in this region in years.”

“Ugh.” He tugs on the collar of his shirt, stretched too tight across shoulders that have broadened over the last five years. At least this is proof he’s done some growing since their school days, despite Sylvain’s teasing insistence on the opposite. He’ll have to let him know when he gets back.

Except, he reminds himself, he’ll probably never see Sylvain again. Or any of his friends, if what the professor has told him is true. Or in the more likely scenario that they get them both killed.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath.

“Something wrong?” the professor asks, looking at their map.

“I didn’t say goodbye to anyone,” he says. “I should have at least said something to Leonie and Lysithea.”

“It doesn’t matter,” they say without looking up at him. “These versions of them won’t exist in a few minutes. And when we get back you won’t have any of your memories, either.”

“Wait, _what?_ This is _not_ what I agreed to.”

Now they look up, blink at him with wide eyes. “I told you I’ve brought you back several times before. You haven’t remembered any of those, have you?”

“You said this time would be different!”

“It will be. We are going back much farther.”

Why has he never noticed just how irritatingly dense the professor can be? “How will I know to stay with the boar if I can’t remember why I’m supposed to?” he asks through gritted teeth.

“I’ll nudge you,” they say. “And I won’t let you join my class if you try. Don’t worry, we can still spar together.”

Sparring is, for once, the furthest thing from his mind. “If I’m going to lose my memories like everyone else then why am I even here? Why couldn’t I just stay at the monastery?”

“Ah yes,” they say, and they genuinely troubled for the first time since before Gronder. His stomach twists. “Felix, there’s a chance my body won’t survive a trip back in time this far.”

“What?” he asks, startled. “What do you mean?”

“It costs a lot of energy, even just going back a few hours,” they say. “This is far and away the farthest I’ve ever gone back all at once, and though I think I have it figured out, there’s always a chance something could go wrong.”

“So you’re willing to die for the off chance that this works,” he says. It’s not a question.

“Oh I’m willing to do much more than die,” they say, their voice casual, as if they were discussing the weather. “There’s a small chance that going back this far could rip a hole in time that sucks up the entire world and kills everyone we’ve ever known. But it’s a very small chance.”

He stares at them for a moment. “I’m going to assume you’re joking.”

“Assume away.”

Felix shakes his head in disbelief. “Whatever. You still haven’t answered why I’m here.”

They nod. “Yes well, remember how I told you I’m the goddess?”

“I’m trying not to.”

“Well, try to remember,” they say, slipping into professor mode once again, “because if this goes wrong and I die, _you_ have to be the goddess.”

Felix blinks. _“Excuse me?”_

“I’m not exactly sure why,” they say, ignoring him. “Or how I know. But I know that _someone_ has to be the goddess. So if something happens to me, that someone is going to be you.”

Felix blinks at them. They are clearly not joking. But they can’t be serious, either. “How the fuck does one _become the goddess?”_

“Hm, I’m not sure of that either. I’m sure it will come to me in the moment though, if we need it.” They smile slightly. “These sort of things always do.” 

“Because you’re the goddess.”

They nod. “Because I’m the goddess.”

Felix pauses. “I don’t believe in the goddess.”

They smile. “I didn’t either. Well, that’s not exactly true. I didn’t know about her until I realized I was her. But it didn’t matter for me, and it won’t for you, either.”

“Right,” he says. “I don’t want to be the goddess.”

The professor sighs. “You and me both. You can still go back if you want. It doesn’t have to be you, anyone with a major crest should be able to survive taking over for me. I could ask Yuri. Or Constance, I’m sure she would be thrilled to be the goddess, if I tell her it comes with a title.”

“Maybe you should ask her, then,” he says, crossing his arms, his voice growing slightly louder. “Why did you ask me anyway if any of them would do?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” they ask. “I need someone who is devoted to Dimitri.”

Felix scoffs.“I’m not devoted to him.”

The professor looks at him like he’s insane. “Yes, you are.”

“I abandoned him,” he spits. "You said it yourself.”

“Yes, circumstances did not favor the two of you this time,” they say, with a hint of regret. “However, I’m confident that aside from my meddling there was actually very little anyone else could have done to convince you to leave his side.”

Feix ponders this for a moment. Surely that can’t be right. He’d been thrilled to leave the Blue Lions, couldn’t get out fast enough really. He hadn’t realized it was an option until the professor had approached him at the training grounds to invite him to join the Golden Deer, in a conversation eerily similar to the one they’d had a few hours ago. But as soon as they’d asked, as soon as he’d processed their words, he hadn’t hesitated. He’ll never forget the profound sense of freedom he’d felt walking back to his quarters with his new class schedule, nor the crestfallen disbelief on the boar’s face when he’d told him he was leaving his class.

He suddenly feels rather ill. Maybe losing his memories wouldn’t be the worst thing.

“Felix,” the professor says after a moment. “I’d like to get this over with. Are you coming with me?”

He takes a deep breath. “Yes,” he says, as if they don’t already know the answer. 

“Thank you, Felix,” they say. They take his hand in theirs and give it a soft squeeze. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad it’s you.”

A warm sense of pride rises within him. He mentally scolds himself, he’s too old, been through too much to care about winning the professor’s approval like this. It’s likely they know of this weakness and are using it to manipulate him. But here, at the end of the world, he can’t bring himself to care that much. 

“Yeah,” he says, feeling his cheeks turning pink. “Me too.”

The professor nods in return and takes his other hand. “This may feel jarring for you, but it will be over in a moment.”

“Okay,” Felix says. “Um, wait. The... goddess thing. That won’t happen, right?”

“Probably,” the professor says, taking his other hand. “It’s much more likely that we both die than only one of us.”

“Right,” he says. He’s already made peace with death too many times to count. “I’m ready.”

The professor takes a deep breath. “Try to relax. It might be best if you close your eyes.”

Felix scoffs. “Not a chance.”

“Alright then,” they say with a small smile. “Here we go.”

For a moment there’s nothing but the sound of faint birdsong and the wind rustling through the trees. Felix’s eyes narrow, he opens his mouth to curse the professor for tricking him.

Then the world is ripped in half. 

Felix falls to the ground, or perhaps the ground rises up to meet him. The rest of the world rushes past him, a blur in which he can still somehow make out each individual moment, each second that he’s lived and millions he hasn’t, all flowing together in one clear stream that’s carrying him away, farther and farther away from home with each second.

And then, suddenly, nothing. The world is black and silent and empty.

He lies flat on his back, staring up at the heavens as they slow down and finally stop moving. He feels different, lighter, smaller. Smaller than what, he can’t be sure. He’s not sure of anything, least of all where he is.

He sits up. The professor is curled in a heap a few feet away. 

_Professor._ Huh. What a strange thought. He hasn’t been a student in years.

No, _no,_ that’s not right, he’s just starting at the academy now. Isn’t he?

They lift their face to meet his and he jumps back in shock, scrambles away from them as fast as he can. They’re withering away before his eyes. Their skin shrivels and flakes off of their face, looking like old parchment stretched over their protruding cheekbones, pulling away from their pale eyes to make them look even more unnaturally large than usual. Hair falls off their head in bunches, tearing off scabby chunks of skin along with it. Their arms are thin and getting visibly thinner, like sticks, they shake as they heave themselves upright, as if they’re liable to snap at any moment.

“Felix,” they whisper, “it went wrong. It went wrong. I’m dying.”

That much is obvious. That much and nothing else.

“Who are you?” he asks, frantic. “Where am I?”

They tilt their head, the graying skin of their neck tearing in two. They don’t seem to notice, their expression one of mild curiosity, staring not at Felix but through him. “Sothis? Is that you?”

“What? No I- you just said my name-”

“ _What?”_ they cut him off. Now their face betrays some alarm- the most he’s emotion he’s ever seen on them. Which is a strange thought considering he’s never seen this person before in his life.

“I- okay,” they continue. “I’m not sure if that will work. But if it’s the only way.”

“What are you talking about? Professor, what the _fuck_ are you talking about? _Who are you?”_

They don’t answer. Instead they pull out a small knife sheathed at their hip and start crawling toward Felix as fast as they can as their arms and legs visibly shrivel and fracture. It’s repulsive, his instincts should be screaming at him to run, but something roots him to the spot. Something about this dying thing feels so familiar, feels so like home, feels almost like...almost like...

_“Glenn?”_ he gasps. “Glenn is that you?”

“No,” says Glenn, but not in Glenn’s voice or with Glenn’s mouth. “Felix, I’m so sorry about this-”

“No, no, it is you,” he insists as the professor reaches out a withered arm to push him back to the ground. They’re stronger than him, still, somehow, despite their muscle turning into ash before his very eyes. Of course he’s stronger. Glenn is always stronger.

“It’s you,” he says again, his eyes stinging as his back hits the ground. “Where have you been? Why did you leave me?”

Glenn looks down on him, pinning him in place with one hand. The professors’ bone protrudes out of their elbow as they raise their dagger. Their face is sad. Tears spill from their bulging eyes and plop down onto his face, mixing with his own.

“Why are you crying? You never cry-”

Glenn brings the blade down.

Searing pain is all he knows, like he’s never felt before. The professor’s blade pierces him deeper than he’s ever been touched before. White hot, tearing into the very fibre of his being, it’s pain worse than he believed possible. He can’t think, can’t scream, knows nothing but the knife in his chest and one indisputable fact.

They’re killing him. He abandoned everything for them, and they’re killing him. 

At least now he knows they aren’t Glenn. Glenn would never hurt him like this.

He’s vaguely aware of the pressure leaving his shoulders and chest, but the lack of that sensation only makes room for more pain. Someone is screaming, or maybe several people are, it’s miles away and in his ears all at once. 

Then they’re pushing something into him, something hard and wet and cold and heavy and painful, deep into his chest and it feels so invasive, so _wrong,_ he can’t breathe, his vision is blacking out, he can’t feel his arms or legs and he’s going to die here, he won’t get to see Dimitri again, of course he won’t, and somehow that’s the worst pain of it all.

But at least, he thinks as the world goes dark, his last thoughts will be of Dimitri.

And then, where before there was nothing but pain and steel, there is something else, quivering, emanating out from the cold thing deep in his chest. The warm tingle of the crest slowly encroaches on the pain, inch by inch, until the utter screaming agony is replaced fully with a throbbing warmness that subsides into a dull ache, as if the wound were several weeks old. 

It takes a moment to register what has happened. He’s felt the surge of his crest’s power thousands of times, but it’s never done something like this before. His crest is for killing, not healing. And yet somehow, he is healed.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath. The first in what feels like an eternity. The treetops above him lurch back into focus, the sun’s first rays beginning to filter through the branches.

A horrible, dry sucking sound comes from somewhere to his right. He turns his head, the muscles in his neck screaming with the simple motion, and immediately wishes he hadn’t.

A corpse lies next to him, weeks dead by the looks of it. The only sign of life is in their eyes, huge and shining and _blue._ Two tears leave thin tracks down the shriveled, colorless skin barely clinging to their brittle and cracked skull. A grey, scabby hand puts something in his own, small and hard and cold.

_“Tell Claude,”_ they rasp. Their voice is just barely distinguishable from the wind whistling through the trees far above. _“Tell Claude…”_

And with a final rattling breath the light leaves their eyes.

“No,” Felix chokes. “Don’t leave me again. Don’t leave me.”

But it’s too late, he knows. The stranger lying next to him is dead, and getting deader by the second. Their body continues to shrivel in on itself, collapsing, their strange black clothes with it. In a matter of seconds the body is nothing but dust, blown away in the morning breeze. As if they were never there at all.

Felix rolls his head back to stare up at the treetops. Slowly the tightness in his throat lessens, his eyes stop stinging. He inhales deeply, trying to slow his rapid breathing. Why he’s breathing so heavily and on the verge of tears he can’t be entirely sure. It really doesn’t make any sense. This clearing he’s found himself in is so peaceful in the soft morning light, sleepy birdsong ringing softly through the air, the grass cool and soft underneath him.

He tries to remember how he got here, so far away from the bustle of Garreg Mach and the surrounding towns. But his memory is completely empty, from the moment he left the training grounds with Ingrid last night. 

The stillness is broken suddenly by a distant rustling and a faint murmur. It’s too far away to make out, but it can’t be anything other than a human voice. It slowly grows louder, as does the unmistakable sound of twigs snapping under footsteps getting closer and closer.

He can just make out three figures through the thick wood, their silhouettes dipping in and out behind the trees. Though he’s alone, unarmed and unable to move without a great deal of pain, something tells him he has nothing to fear.

“Remind me again, your princeliness,” one of them says, “why are we running _towards_ the hideous, blood curdling screams?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with Claude,” comes a second, stern voice. A woman’s, that vaguely stirs something hot and angry in the pit of his stomach. “We should really head back to camp and alert the knights.”

“Really, you two,” says a third voice, and Felix’s world turns on its head. 

That voice was lost to him, forever. He’d never thought he’d hear it again, outside of his deepest dreams. But no sound has ever been more clear. 

“To think,” it continues, each syllable hitting Felix like a splash of cold water, “that either of you would turn tail when there is someone nearby in desperate need of help. We must be close now- wait, over there, is that - is that a _body?”_

Felix heaves himself off the ground, every muscle screaming at the simple motion of sitting upright. His head swims, his vision goes blurry, but he uses every ounce of willpower left to him to remain tethered to the sound of that voice, and the shadowed figure running full speed towards the clearing. He leaps through a final patch of brush and stumbles out of the shadows, finally illuminated.

Dimitri stands before him. Dimitri, alive, and young, and whole.

_“Felix?”_ he gasps. His eyes are wide and bluer than Felix remembers. Both of them. “What are you doing here?”

Felix says nothing. Is incapable of saying anything. All he can do is stare, his mouth hanging open slightly.

For another moment they look at each other in silence across the clearing. Then, as if awakening from a slumber, Dimitri blinks twice and runs over to Felix’s side, sinking to his knees on the ground next to him. 

“Felix,” he says again, softly. “What happened? Are you hurt? Goodness, you are covered in blood, is it yours?”

Silently, Felix reaches out, closing the short distance between them to press his fingers to Dimitri’s face. He almost jumps in surprise when they meet soft skin. 

Real. Dimitri is real, and here, and _alive_.

But of course he’s alive. Why wouldn’t he be? Felix saw him just this morning. Told him to fuck off when he asked him to join him for lunch.

No, _no,_ that’s not right, it’s been years since Dimitri spoke to him. Because Felix abandoned him, and because Felix abandoned him he is lost forever.

And yet here he is. Warm and breathing under Felix’s fingers.

The back of his throat begins to prickle.

“It’s you…” he says, his voice a hoarse whisper.

Dimitri’s brow furrows. He shakes his head, opens his mouth-

“Woah, Dimitri,” calls a voice from across the clearing. “That’s that guy from your house, right? What’s he doing out here?”

Dimitri whips his head around. Felix does not drop his hand. Doesn’t think he ever will again, actually. “Stay over there, please, Claude,” he calls. “And you, Edelgard. Just- just give me a moment, will you?”

The footsteps stop and Dimitri turns back to him. He raises one gauntleted hand to cover Felix’s, the other reaches out to peel back the tattered and sticky mess that must have once been a school uniform. 

He sucks in a breath. _“Felix,_ you’ve been-”

Felix sobs, unable to hold it in a moment longer. Everything but Dimitri blurs as a stream of tears spill from his eyes. His entire body is wracked, each gasping breath sending pain shooting through his body. But there’s nothing he can do to stop it. 

_What is going on?_ There is absolutely no reason he should be crying like this. He hasn’t cried like this in years, wasn’t aware he was still capable of the kind of sounds coming out of him now. It would be incredibly embarrassing if it weren’t so bewildering and so painful. 

Dimitri is still for a moment, stunned. Then, slowly, his arms encircle Felix to pull him close. 

Felix would protest, he tells himself, would shove Dimitri off and maybe hit him, if he weren’t in so much pain. So he has no choice but to let Dimitri hold him while his body rids itself of whatever curse that’s been placed upon it, nothing to do but tuck his head into Dimitri’s chest under his chin as some strange catharsis unfolds within him.

Dimitri holds him so close that Felix can feel his heartbeat thud within his own body. Deep in the back of his mind, he notices that it’s the only one he feels.

**Author's Note:**

> I plan on updating this but it's gonna be sloooooow
> 
> I'm on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/_abbner)


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